


Negative Reinforcement, Or Whatever

by viola1516



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viola1516/pseuds/viola1516
Summary: One shot: Stan needs to watch his mouth before he can watch two 12 year olds all summer.Feel free to comment!





	

“Okay, I’ll be there. You too. Bye, now. Fucking busybodies,” Stan grumbled, voice quickly switching tones as he hung up the phone, and earning him a squirt of water from the bottle in Wendy’s hand.

He turned to glower at his lazy register girl, who didn’t even flinch.

“Hey, Mr. Pines,” she intoned, “ _you_ asked for this. Don’t blame me for your need of familial commitment.”

And while it irked him, Wendy was right. How the hell was _Stan_ supposed to watch two 12 year olds for the summer? He didn’t know the first thing about kids. Let alone how to curb his sailor’s mouth. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t had much contact with his family since… the accident. Faking his own death to take up Stanford’s place had its benefits, but it was also just plain lonely. So when Shermy’s son had called him to see about sending his kids up to Gravity Falls for the summer, well, Stan had jumped at the chance to see his great niece and nephew… without much thought as to what that entailed. 

The day of their (Damion? Margaret? Something like that. He’d get it later.) arrival was upon him, and Stan had done nothing to prepare. Figuring he should at least try and cut back on the swearing (they _were_ just kids, after all), he’d tasked Wendy and Soos with spraying him with water every time he swore, just to get him out of the habit. Negative reinforcement or whatever. He couldn’t swear that much in one day, right?

He could.

Stan’s old suit had been damp since the moment they opened the Mystery Shack for business that morning. 

To be fair, bad habits from one’s teen years were hard to break (especially at Stan’s age). And really, these kids were gonna learn their swears sometime soon anyway.

 _Fuck it,_ Stan thought, rearranging some merchandise to keep his hands busy before it was time to get the kids from the bus station. _Should just call the whole damn thing off. What was I thinking?_ Glancing at the clock, his heart took a little rest. Their bus wasn’t due until 4:00, leaving him exactly two hours and thirty-seven minutes before he had to leave. 

_Don’t worry, Stan,_ he thought to himself. _You’ve taken care of yourself all these years, right? Kids can’t be that much different. Hell, they’ll probably have their own tech devices or whatever to keep them occupied. They won’t need ol’ Stan Pines around._

His heart sank as his mind went to the worst. _What if they don’t like me?_

“Erm, Wendy?” he called across the Shack, but got no response. “Damn it, where is she?” he exclaimed, making his way around some displays to the counter, where Wendy was sitting, face in a magazine, spray bottle held aloft. 

“Aw, shit, come on!” Stan yelled, shielding his face from the attack. 

He felt another squirt from behind him, and whirled around, only to see Soos holding his own spray bottle. “This is for your own good, Mr. Pines!” 

“Soos, what the hell?!” Stan shouted, moving out of the range of both of his lousy employees.

Wendy smirked. “You’ve really gotta watch your mouth, Stan.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Like you teens are any better.”

Wendy didn’t answer, but gave Stan a mischievous, yet genuine smile before hiding once again behind her magazine.

 _She’s a good kid,_ Stan mused, scanning the Shack.

Stan’s demeanor quickly changed as some customers walked into the Shack. _Time to pay the fucking bills,_ he thought, straightening his tie.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack folks!” _This whole not cursing thing isn’t so hard,_ he thought to himself, turning on the charm for these sorry saps. _The kids’ll be just like customers._

Stan paused to step between a man and the display he was trying to touch. _Oh, dear god, I hope not._

The clock on the wall seemed to speed up, and suddenly, Stan needed to leave to get the twins from the bus station. 

Heart pounding in his chest, Stan left Soos in charge, and headed for his car, the good old Stanley mobile- the only remnant of… before. 

His hands were shaking as he drove down the road and into town. Why was he so nervous? They were just kids. Just the only family he had left. Nothing serious.

 _Get your shit together, Stan,_ he thought, pulling into a parking spot near the bus station. _Who even cares if they don’t like you? They’re just kids. Who cares what kids think anyway?_

_They’re only family._

Stan was yanked from his anxious thoughts as the bus pulled into the station. But what really caught his attention was an olive-skinned brunette with a round face and braces hanging out the window. Yelling.

“GREAT UNCLE STAN!” she shrieked. “OH MY GOD, DIPPER, THERE HE IS!”

“Mabel, shush!” came the more subdued prepubescent voice of her twin brother as he pulled her back into the bus. 

Stan’s knees were shaking as he made his way to the door of the bus to greet them. _Okay, Stan, here we go._

“Dipper, he has an eyepatch!” the girl- Mabel?- was saying as they dragged their suitcases off of the bus. “Do you think he’s a pirate?”

“Mabel, I don’t know,” the boy replied, adjusting his baseball cap low on his forehead and glancing up to meet Stan’s gaze. 

He looked like Ford.

There was a beat as they all stood for a moment, sizing each other up, before Mabel attacked Stan with a tight hug around his mid-section. 

“Hi, Great Uncle Stan!” she chirped. 

“Uh, hey there, kiddo,” Stan replied, peeling the kid off of his legs.

_Certainly enthusiastic. Might be annoying._

But as gruff as Stan tried to be, his heart had already melted. 

“You can just call me your Grunkle Stan,” he said, offering the kids a weak smile. 

Stan didn’t know the first thing about childcare, but in that moment he did know one thing: he would do anything for these kids. His family.

 _Fuck, Stan,_ he thought. _You’re getting soft._

Stan resolved as he loaded the kids into the car that he would spray himself if he had to, if only for the twins.

He didn’t know anything about what kids were into these days, but one thing was for sure: this was gonna be one hell of a summer.


End file.
